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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Act your age or your shoe size

The dj on kxlu played my all time favorite Elvis Costello song: 5ive Gears in Reverse.

That put me in a really good mood, and it was just the panacea I needed to get this next phase of stupid work done.

Every other word out of my mouth has been, ďFuck!Ē, ďGODfuckingDAMMIT!Ē or ďMotherfuck!Ē Itís a good thing I donít work in a typical office, or Iíd have to gag myself in order not to offend.

Itís not that the work itself is hard; it just annoys me. I donít like having to ape some hack designerís style (if thatís what you can call it.) There are so many opportunities to make this book GOOD, and itís frustrating having to control my impulse to improve things.

An exercise in letting go if there ever was one. Non-attachment, here I come!

This project is all Iíve been talking about lately, and I apologize for being a broken record. I will now attempt to change gears... and go forward.

I had dinner at Luna Park the other night. It was a nice way to spend a lot of money. I ordered a bottle of some Bonny Doon wine that Iíve always liked, and drank it too quickly, so that when the bill came and I took charge of it, I was counting like a nincompoop, not making any sense of the giant pile of bills. Some grownup I am becoming!

Which leads me to this: in yoga today, my teacher was talking about how thereís a belief (from somewhere... I didnít ask for her sources) that you are as old as your spine. And we were in the middle of backbends. Anyway, evidently people with flexible spines generally appear younger, either because their movements are more fluid and assured, or because thereís a mysterious connection between the vertebrae and aging.

If you think about it, it kinda makes sense. When youíre a kid, your spine is a limber S curve; youíre always running, and jumping and climbing and skipping. As you get older, you become less elastic because you move and stretch far less, and over time, your spine becomes stiffer. And this applies not only to the body...

Itís all a bit self-congratulatory to say that to a room full of yoga students-- ďHi! Arenít we great and havenít we found the Fountain of Youth?Ē--but it made everyone feel really good, so... is it really so wrong? For a brief moment, I stuffed a sock in my inner critic and enjoyed some fleeting warmfuzzy.

I believe Iím 12 years old: a sorta bossy, sometimes know-it-all, goofy girl with occasional ridiculously fancy airs. And right now a disfiguring pimple.

How old are you?

5:30 p.m. - 2003-11-04



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